Chapter Text
Shinsou has been denying the obvious.
It’s not like he’s an idiot - he wouldn’t be in the hero course right now if he was - but he’s subconsciously turned a blind eye to suit his own narrative of the situation.
Now that he’s standing outside of Aizawa’s off-campus unit with a bottle of red wine in hand, he really, really can’t deny it anymore.
The previous night after a particularly gruelling training session that literally ran Shinsou into the ground with exhaustion, Aizawa had stood over him and casually asked if he wanted to come over for dinner.
“What?” he asked, unsure if he was hearing right. His brain wasn’t getting a lot of oxygen.
“Dinner,” Aizawa repeated. He was winding up his own binding cloth, looking like he’d barely broken a sweat after tossing Shinsou around like a pancake. “Tomorrow is six months since your transfer became official.”
Shinsou managed to crane his neck up far enough to look at him in bewilderment. “It is?”
He nodded. “Six o’clock? Eri needs to sleep early.”
That was the end of the conversation, apparently, and Shinsou was left both confused and buzzing with excitement. As much as it’s apparently been obvious that Aizawa favors Shinsou, it’s far more obvious that Shinsou has always idolised Aizawa.
Still nervous, he plucks up the courage to reach up and ring the doorbell. He counts twelve seconds before the door opens and there stands Aizawa, dressed down in a sweater and jeans.
“G-Good evening,” Shinsou stutters. Aizawa raises an eyebrow at the awkward greeting. His eyes fall to Shinsou’s hands, which are both clutching the neck of the wine bottle tightly.
“... What’s this?” he asks.
“Oh, uh,” Shinsou awkwardly holds it up in offering, “My dad said it would be rude to show up empty handed.”
Aizawa takes the bottle, turning it over to observe the label and humming approvingly. “Thanks. Should I be concerned how you got this?”
He steps aside to let Shinsou into the house, which he does - still a little dazzled by the fact he’s here.
“Uh, no, don’t worry,” he chuckles, “Dad called uncle and told him to get it as a gift for my teacher. He also said to say thank you for all you’ve done.”
“Your uncle?”
“My dad.”
Aizawa pauses. He’s aware of Shinsou’s home situation, he had to speak to Shinsou’s parents on the phone to get permission for his unique training schedule. He knows how much Shinsou’s father worries, how nervous he was about him joining the hero course.
“Nothing to say thank you for,” Aizawa smiles, “Come on, Hizashi made curry.”
Hizashi?
Shinsou follows him inside. Aizawa’s home is a small standalone unit that opens up straight into the open-plan dining and living area. Eri is walking around the dining table getting up on her toes to set the places, and in the kitchen is-
“Yo! Shinsou-kun!” Present Mic calls out, quieter than usual though that isn't saying much. He’s also dressed down - a much starker difference from his usual attire than Aizawa - with his hair in a low bun and an apron around his waist.
Shinsou glances between the very domestic-looking Present Mic and his sensei and promptly decides not to ask.
“Thank you for cooking,” he bows his head.
“So polite!” Mic laughs, “Relax, take a seat. Won’t be long.”
Shinsou bristles at the unintentional callout and tries to loosen his shoulders, approaching the table to see Eri clambering into a seat herself.
“Hi, Eri-chan,” he greets. He’s met Eri a few times since Aizawa brings her around the dorms often, but he’s still not sure if the young girl recognises him. She looks up, blinking her huge eyes at him.
“Hitoshi,” she says in her little voice, and wow - Shinsou didn’t think she even remembered his name, let alone his first name. “You sit here.”
She points to the seat next to her. He looks and sees that in her attempt to set the table she had put two forks at his place and two knives at the one across from him, but otherwise made a good effort. He drapes his coat over the chair and sits down, subtly switching the silverware with one hand while he talks to her.
“How are you? How’s school?” he asks. She switched from homeschooling to real elementary school this year - hence why she’s less of a regular in the UA dorms.
She immediately pouts at the question.
“Not a fan?” Shinsou laughs. He hears a sigh across from him and up to see Aizawa taking a seat at the table.
“Eri is having trouble making friends,” he says. Eri glares at him - the best she can with her incredibly unintimidating face. He frowns down at her. “What?”
“Don’t tell people,” she grumbles, which is honestly a fair complaint for a kid to have.
Aizawa just shrugs. He never claimed to be an experienced parent. “Sorry. Hey, maybe Hitoshi can help.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that…” Shinsou laughs nervously, a few memories surfacing in his mind of his own elementary school days. Unpleasant ones. “Sorry, Eri-chan. I might not be the best person to ask, I didn’t have many friends when I was young.”
Eri’s face falls a little and Shinsou instantly feels bad. He knows what it’s like to be in her shoes - having a frightening quirk that causes people to keep their distance - though it’s probably worse for Eri considering her lack of experience in social environments before now. He glances up at Aizawa and though his expression gives little away, Shinsou has a feeling he’s struggling with how to deal with it.
“I, uh, made one friend in elementary school,” Shinsou says after a moment. He’s fine with sharing this story - at least in this room. “Her name was Ame. She wasn’t scared of my quirk because she never spoke.”
“Never?” Aizawa asks.
“Yeah, she was deaf from birth,” he explains, unsure if Eri knows what that means but she seems to understand. “It took a while for us to become friends, though. One day I noticed she wasn’t frightened when I had to talk to her to give her notes in class. I took a chance and approached her, and it turns out she wanted to be friends too and was just shy. It’s hard to be the person who approaches the ostracized kid, too.”
“Ostrich sized?” Eri frowns.
“It means that people were avoiding him,” a new voice joins the conversation, and Shinsou looks up to see Mic approaching with the prepared plates of curry - which look delicious.
He puts a plate in front of each of them and takes his seat next to Aizawa, across from Eri. Aizawa and Eri immediately start eating, so Shinsou gathers that they aren’t a say-grace kind of household.
“Are you still friends?” Eri asks between spoonfuls of rice. It takes Shinsou a moment to realise he’s being spoken to as he guessed they were a silence-during-dinner household, but apparently that isn’t the case.
“Oh… Sort of? Her family moved away when we were thirteen and I don’t know what she’s up to nowadays.”
Eri looks down at her plate, moving her food around as she ponders his response. In retrospect it isn’t exactly super encouraging for her to hear that she might make one friend and then have them ripped away due to the father’s promotion, or something.
“I… Well, I have plenty of friends now,” he says, “Midoriya-kun and the rest of Class A have always been really nice to me - even when I was a jaded asshole.”
“Shinsou-kun!” Mic whisper-yells, but Aizawa just muffles a laugh. Eri smiles too.
“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Uh, Eri, all I’m saying is that if a weirdo like me can make friends then a nice girl like you will too. You just have to find the right people.”
He doesn’t even know if it’s good advice. There’s no denying a lot of the kids in Hitoshi’s school were prejudiced assholes, but after a while it was also on him. He didn’t try - he pushed people away who were only being nice to him. He wonders how many other potential friendships he closed himself off to - maybe there weren’t any but then again, maybe there were.
He hopes Eri doesn’t have to wonder about this when she’s his age.
“Hmm… I’ll think about it,” she mumbles, big eyes looking up at him thoughtfully before turning back to her meal. “This is delicious, thank you Hiza-sensei!”
“No problem kid, eat up!” Mic coos, and apparently that’s the end of that conversation.
Shinsou feels like he’s settled in and allows himself to enjoy the pleasantness of Yamada’s cooking - a trait he didn’t expect from their rambunctious teacher - and the relaxed atmosphere of Aizawa and his companions at dinner. It feels intimate in that it’s just so normal, and Shinsou is touched that he was invited into this.
He offers to help clean up when they’re done but Mic waves him off, telling him to go sit with Aizawa to watch post-dinner cartoons with Eri instead.
Shinsou follows them into the living room, watching Aizawa talk Eri down from whatever show she wanted to watch towards something he can apparently tolerate more. He makes her swear she’ll stop after two episodes - about an hour - and read before bed instead. Despite Aizawa’s lack of experience with young kids, Shinsou thinks he does pretty well with Eri.
Shinsou ends up sitting on the sofa while Eri watches her show - some cartoon with kids in a band - and Aizawa excuses himself to make them some tea. Shinsou would usually prefer coffee but he knows without asking that he’d get a lecture for drinking coffee at almost eight o’clock at night.
He tries to watch the cartoon for lack of anything better to do but the plot of this apparent kids show immediately loses him, and Eri doesn’t seem to appreciate being asked questions while she’s trying to watch it. Thankfully it doesn’t take long for Aizawa to return with a soothing cup of jasmine tea and then Shinsou can pay attention to him instead.
“You never told me you live with Mic-sensei,” Shinsou points out, keeping his voice low enough not to disturb Eri’s enraptured viewing. Aizawa is looking down at his tea, blowing on it to cool it down, his eyes flicking up to Shinsou at the comment.
“You did a pretty good job not acting surprised when you came in.”
“Oh, I wasn’t surprised,” he grins. Aizawa laughs.
“Well, it isn’t a secret. But I doubt it’s quite what you’re thinking.”
That could mean anything, but Shinsou isn’t here to pry into every detail of Aizawa’s private life - at least not yet. This evening has his chest is filled with an unfamiliar warmth and he hopes that it won’t be the last time he’s invited over - so hopefully he’ll have other chances to ask.
He sips his tea, humming in approval at the pleasant taste. “Hm… How long have you lived together?”
“Almost four years now, but it’s been on and off due to work,” Aizawa explains. “Before the war I did more undercover work that would take me away for a while.”
“What’s a while?”
“Longest was over a year. Infiltrated a prominent gang.”
Shinsou’s jaw drops. “A year?”
Aizawa chuckles. “It sounds like longer at your age.”
“I think it’s pretty long no matter what.”
“It certainly felt like it at times,” he mumbles, pausing to sip his own tea. Shinsou watches him, the tiredness expressed through his remaining eye - a look he’s had since Shinsou met him. Aizawa isn’t old, he’s barely 31, but between his underground hero work and the war he’s experienced more than enough to last a lifetime.
It’s been Shinsou’s plan for a while now to follow in his sensei’s footsteps and become an underground hero too. Sometimes he wonders if he’s really going to be able to handle it, but the way Aizawa speaks about his choice with such conviction - without regret despite all the horrors - he knows that he wouldn’t send anyone down that path if he didn’t believe they could.
“... How about the strangest?”
“Strangest?” Aizawa asks, blinking away whatever memories he was getting lost in.
“Strangest undercover operation you’ve ever had to do,” Shinsou elaborates. It’s an obvious attempt at lifting the mood, but he’s also genuinely curious.
“That’s easy. When I was 23 I had to work at a host club for a month.”
Shinsou almost chokes on his tea.
True to her word, Eri shuts off her cartoon after two episodes and goes to get ready for bed. Mic once again insists on helping her get ready and tucking her in, clearly trying to give the other two as much time together as he can. It’s sweet, if a little embarrassing.
They chat quietly for a while longer, and although Shinsou could honestly listen to Aizawa’s stories for hours, it’s nearing the point that he will have to leave in order to catch the last train home.
“Ah, sorry. Didn’t see the time,” Aizawa says when he sees Shinsou checking his watch. “Do you need a ride?”
“No, I'll be able to make it," Shinsou waves him off. He knows it probably isn't a big deal but he really doesn't want to keep imposing on Aizawa's Friday evening more than he has.
"Alright, here let me grab you the leftovers Hizashi packed for you."
"The what?" Shinsou asks, but Aizawa has already slinked off towards the kitchen. He returns quickly with two neatly packed bentos stacked and tied together, which he hands over into a stunned Shinsou's hands.
"I know you aren't eating right in those dorms, you can't keep using protein bars to skim your way through training," Aizawa explains. Shinsou didn't realise he was paying that much attention, and doesn't have a retort against the accurate accusation. "Besides, we made too much. Enjoy it."
Shinsou takes the offering gratefully, too embarrassed by the kind gesture to formulate the proper 'thank you' he wants to.
They make their way to the door and Shinsou puts his shoes back on, the air becoming awkwardly silent. The two of them are usually most comfortable in silence, preferring to converse when they want to and not just to fill the space, but this whole evening has been uncharted territory for them and it has Shinsou acting strange.
Aizawa opens the door for him, holding it for him to exit. Shinsou clutches his bentos to his chest, stepping past the threshold out the front door - then turning back to Aizawa.
"Thank you. For dinner."
"Anytime, Hitoshi."
Shinsou fights down a positively goofy smile at the inadvertent invitation, eyes falling to the floor between them. He should probably turn to leave, it's a perfectly pleasant end to a perfectly pleasant evening, but there's that word that is still tickling the back of his mind. It's all but entirely proven at this point but he still feels the need to mention it. Just to close the book on this odd little chapter.
“You know," he looks back up at Aizawa, unable to hold back a grin this time. "Everyone says you’re playing favorites with me."
Aizawa doesn't falter, chuckling at the comment, “That so?”
“I didn’t believe them at first, but…” he nods past Aizawa into his home. “I assume you don't invite all your students for dinner with your family?”
“Nah,” he reaches out to place a hand on Shinsou’s head, ruffling his hair affectionately. “You’re my favorite.”
Shinsou freezes, feeling his face heat up at the admission. Easy, obvious, like it’s an everyday fact. It probably is, to everyone but him up until now.
"R-Right..." he stutters, the tension quickly returning to his shoulders.
They fall quiet once again, Aizawa looking like he's really mulling over how to say what he wants to say next. He's not exactly a man of many words, and Shinsou gets the sense that he wants his next words to be the right ones.
“Listen, kid,” Aizawa mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I know your situation with your parents isn’t ideal, that you don’t see them as often as you want to. I usually don’t say this stuff so directly, but… You can rely on me, okay? For anything, not just school.”
Shinsou's fingers tighten around the knot holding the bentos together, fighting to keep his expression normal.
A year ago, he would never have imagined being offered this kind of support - from his favorite hero nonetheless. It means more than his stupid teenage brain knows how to say, but based on the soft look in his sensei's eyes, he doesn't need to.
"Thank you," Shinsou says, far less stiff than before. Aizawa just grunts an acknowledgement, fond smile still on his face. Shinsou bows politely and finally turns to step off the porch, making it a few steps before looking back over his shoulder - seeing that Aizawa is still waiting there.
"Uh, Could I... Come over again next Friday?" he asks.
Aizawa's smile widens. "Certainly, Hitoshi. How about risotto."